


True Like Ice, Like Fire

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't have to say she's faithful. Okay, maybe she does. But only because Harry's kind of dim sometimes.  Written in 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Like Ice, Like Fire

The plant practically filled the doorway.

"Hello, Neville," said Harry.

The broad, purple-tipped leaves rustled. "Hi, Harry. Er," Neville grunted, "could you help me with this thing? I floated it up the stairs, but— The spell sort of fizzled just when I got to the landing."

"Yeah, Hermione put up some wards. She's trying to make a sort of invisible shield. You know, just in case someone comes after us. Well, me at least. Ron's not important," he said loudly.

"I heard that," Ron called from the kitchen.

"Here." Harry bent to help Neville maneuver the enormous potted plant into the flat. He'd already had a bottle of hard butterbeer, so he might have imagined it, but he thought the leaves turned their lobes up at him in a snooty manner.

"You remember that I'm leaving for a bit, right?" Harry said when the plant was settled on the floor. "And that it's just going to be Ron here until I get back?"

"Yeah," said Neville. "But I wanted to get you something for your flat, before you left."

"'Cause I'm sure he won't mean to, but he'll probably end up killing this plant."

"Not," Neville said, "if the plant kills him first."

"Oi, I heard that too." Ron came out of the kitchen, a cold bottle of butterbeer in either hand. "I'm a match for any plant," he scoffed as he passed one to Neville.

"And if he isn't," said Hermione, following Ron out of the kitchen and taking his bottle, " _I_ am." She pushed her tangled hair off her neck and held the bottle to her skin.

"Actually, there isn't much danger." Neville took a swig of his butterbeer. "Mmm. In the wild, they're pretty ferocious, but this lot… They're almost tame. _Almost._ This one still tends to go after dirty laundry – probably because of the smell. I wanted to get him to break the habit before Harry's going away party, but…" He shrugged.

"Don't break the habit," said Ron, taking his butterbeer back from Hermione. "If it saves me having to do laundry—"

"You'll never do laundry," Hermione cut in, "with or without this plant."

"Yeah, well." Ron looped an arm around her waist and hitched her closer. "You're always complaining about me leaving stuff all over the floor, even in my own flat. At least now you won't have anything to complain about. "

"Except you'll constantly be shopping for clothes. Which I know is your favorite thing in the world."

Ron made a face.

While they argued, Harry glanced around them at Neville. Their eyes met and they grinned. Harry thought, _You can change the world, but some things stay the same,_ and was sure that Neville was thinking the same thing.

*

Over the next hour, the rest of Dumbledore's Army – though the Battle for Hogwarts had been over for months, Harry would always think of this particular group of people that way – showed up, mostly in pairs and small groups. George and Ginny arrived together. Harry started toward them, but Angelina got there first, and he stopped a few feet away. Ron had mentioned Angelina stopping by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fairly often since Fred's death, acting rather protective of George. That had seemed uncharacteristically perceptive of Ron, but, watching George and Angelina now, Harry was inclined to believe him. He tried and failed to catch Ginny's eye.

Only Luna arrived alone. She stood in the doorway for several moments, blinking her pale eyes slowly, as though surprised by her destination. She smiled when she saw Harry, reached into her pocket, and handed him something wrapped neatly in violet tissue paper.

It was light in Harry's palm, and only slightly longer and wider than his index finger. "Er," he said. "Thanks."

"It's for your journey," said Luna.

"I see. And, um—"

"It's for calming wild Ditherybills. They won't try to eat you if you play the right tune. I've written it on the paper, so you'll be perfectly safe."

"Luna, I don't know what a Ditherybill is." _And neither do you, most likely,_ he thought.

"You will," she replied placidly.

After seeing Luna to the kitchen and helping her to butterbeer and pizza, Harry glanced around again for Ginny. He didn't see her in the kitchen or on the fire escape.

He surprised Neville coming out of the bathroom. "You haven't seen Ginny, have you?"

"Er." Neville glanced over his shoulder. "I didn't _see_ her in there, but you can—"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I just. Want to talk with her. In private."

"You're leaving in the morning," said Neville, "and you want to talk with her in private before you go, so you invite her to a big party at your small flat?"

"Not one of my best plans, huh?"

"It's a good plan if you're thinking of chickening out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Neville said, "if you do find her, you can pull her aside. The party's for you, but it's not like Ron and Hermione can't handle things you happen to disappear for a few minutes. Or, if you decide it's going to be too awkward, you can pretend you weren't able to get close to her."

"Right," said Harry. To hide his flush and avoid Neville's knowing gaze, he looked down at his trainers. "Yeah, you're right."

"I am, more often than not," said Neville, sounding pleased.

*

Harry went to his room and shut the door behind him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The door muffled the noise from the party, but he could make out the occasional individual voice raised above the others. None of them sounded like Ginny. Was it possible she'd gone home?

He hadn't seen much of her over the summer. She'd been working at Flourish and Blotts and he'd been flat-hunting with Ron and – thinking. He'd spent so much time just thinking – about the things he'd learned about Dumbledore, Snape, and his mother. About his fight with Voldemort. The friends he'd lost. What in the world he was going to do now. Come the autumn, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny would be returning to Hogwarts. Ron would still be working with George, quietly doing what he could to help his brother, knowing he'd never take Fred's place.

But Harry had found himself at loose ends. He could get a job too, he'd thought. He could mope around and live off his parents' gold. Or he could run away for a while, see some of the world beyond Britain. Tomorrow morning, he'd be taking an airplane – for the first time in his life – to Paris. He'd chosen Paris because he reckoned no one there would try to talk to him once they realized _merci_ and _une billet si vous plait_ was about the extent of his knowledge of French.

When he'd bought his ticket three weeks ago he'd thought it a good idea, going to a place where he wouldn't have to talk to very many people. Lately, though, he'd been remembering the time he'd spent with Ginny at the end of his sixth year, and how she'd always seemed to know when he wanted to talk and when he didn’t.

Naturally, he thought, now that he was fairly certain he wanted to talk to her, she was nowhere to be found.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the window. The curtains were parted, but he couldn't see much because of the apartment building across the alley. The sky had been a creamy pink before Hermione arrived, a little before Neville. He wondered what color it was now. A ribbon of breeze rolled in, smelling of car exhaust and greasy food, but cooling the room, reminding Harry that it would be autumn soon.

"Hem hem."

Harry jumped. He knew that voice. And it was coming from under his bed. Then he remembered that he knew someone who was pretty good at mimicking that voice.

"That's not funny," he said, rubbing his back where it had struck the doorknob.

"Sorry," said Ginny. "Come down here."

"Er. You know it's me, right? Harry?"

"Of course."

"How _did_ you know?"

There was a pause. Then Ginny said, "Harry, I'd know your brooding silence anywhere. Come here. We have to talk."

Harry knelt by the bed. It was too dark to see anything underneath. "I'm not sure I'll—"

"If I can fit," Ginny said impatiently, "you can fit. My chest sticks out more than yours, remember?"

Harry remembered. He also remembered the last time he'd seen that chest – dusted with freckles, filling a navy blue bikini top that her mother probably didn't know she had, at Shell Cottage earlier that summer. Harry got on his back and wriggled to her side as quickly as he could. He only bumped his head once on the underside of the bed – which Ginny appeared to have decorated with glowing stars and crescent moons.

"Isn't it romantic?" she said. "You can't see real stars from your flat."

Ginny smelled like summery things – strawberries, sun block, and honeysuckle. If he turned his head, his face would be in her hair and that, he thought, would be nice. He started to move, but she elbowed him.

"Wait," she said. "I want to talk to you first. I want to know something. I think I can guess why you've been avoiding me all summer. I've sort of been avoiding you too. Everything's been weird. I've been working, Fred's gone, Percy's back. And then there's the rest of the world. But you could have told me a while ago that you were leaving. Why didn't you?"

Harry sucked in his breath. Ron and Hermione had each asked him the same question and he hadn't answered them. Ron, he'd been afraid, would tell him he was doing the right thing, and Hermione, he'd been sure, would insist he was going about it all wrong.

"Well," he began, then stopped.

"Are you still trying to be noble?" she asked.

"No," said Harry. Then, "Yes. Well, sort of, but—"

"Because if you are," she said, "it's really stupid."

"Yeeeah," he agreed, _feeling_ stupid. "The thing is—" He might as well say it, he thought. "You're going back to Hogwarts really soon. I'm going to be traveling. We won't see each other for months, may not even for a year. I don't know if I'll be back for Christmas. A lot can happen in that time and…maybe…maybe it _should._ If you meet someone else, or if I meet someone else – not that I'm going to be _looking_ for someone else—" He laughed dryly. "I'll mostly be in countries where I don't speak the language. It's not _likely_ I'll meet anyone, but if I _do_ …"

"You don't sound very noble," Ginny remarked.

"We're young," Harry said. He wished he had room to gesture with his hands, wished she hadn’t stuck glowing stars to the underside of his bed, wished they could just _kiss_ , and that kissing would solve everything. He was painfully aware of the fact that if he moved his left hand just a few inches, he would brush her hip.

"We're young," he said again. "And neither of should feel…obligated."

"I don't feel obligated," said Ginny. "I feel horny."

Harry bumped his head again.

"Don't try to sit up. There isn't room."

"Yeah. I noticed."

"Now I have your attention, right?"

"You did before."

"But now I _really_ have it. And now I bet you're not feeling so noble."

"Yeah," said Harry, staring fixedly at the stars. "I mean no. Not noble." _She brought me stars,_ he thought dimly. _In the middle of London, she brought stars to me. That means something important, I think._

"Good," said Ginny. "Now, this is what I think." And then her lips were very close to his ear. The warm puff of her breath made him groan faintly. "I'm not saying," she murmured, her fingertips dancing lightly over his wrist, raising the hairs on his arms, "that it’s going to work. Us, I mean. I don't know. I guess that's something growing up between wars teaches you: nothing is for certain. But I still want to try to keep us together. I think we're worth it. Don't you think so?"

What was he supposed to say? Being noble had its attractions, but just then he couldn't think what those attractions could possibly be. The truth – and it felt so good to admit it, finally, to himself – was that he wanted her now, and was sure he'd keeping wanting her no matter how far away he went, or how many people he met.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I know so."

"Good. Now, if you want to be properly kissed, you're going to have to turn your head a little. There isn't much room for me to maneuver. Watch your glasses."

They got knocked askew when he turned toward her, but he didn't care.

"Maybe I'll come see you at Christmas," Ginny murmured against his lips. "Mum and Dad might not be mad about the idea, but I'll think of something."

"You bring the stars," said Harry dazedly, "wherever I am. At least I can protect you from Ditherybills."

"From _what_?"

"See? Now you _have_ to come and find out."

She laughed and kissed his cheek again. "All right. First, though, I think we should go someplace roomier…"

"I'd love to," said Harry sincerely. "But, in case you hadn't noticed, there's a party going on outside."

"You always do find a way to complicate things. But I think we'll be able to sneak past everyone. We're clever people. We'll think of a way."

As usual, she was right.

4/2/2008


End file.
